


It's a Date

by nan



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-07
Updated: 2009-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-14 16:56:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/151457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nan/pseuds/nan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just how hard is it to ask Squall out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a Date

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for areyougame on DW; the prompt was _Final Fantasy VIII, Irvine/Squall: interruptions/frustration - Irvine likes Squall. Irvine wants to ask him out. Finding time alone is impossible when your love interest is the commander of Garden._ This isn't a favored ship of mine but I thought I would give it a shot, anyway. *G*

“What are you doing here?”

Irvine looked up from where he slouched against the wall, brow furrowed. “What?”

Quistis raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing up here?” she repeated, shifting the file book she was holding to her other arm. “Is something the matter?”

Irvine blinked and stood up, tipping his hat to her. “Maybe I just came to see your pretty face,” he said, winking.

Quistis smirked. “I’m glad I could oblige you,” she said dryly before nodding sharply to him, her momentary teasing fading away to curt professionalism as she walked towards the elevator. Irvine touched her elbow.

“Hey, does Squall have a moment?” he asked.

Quistis shifted the files again. “A moment? He’s the commander - there’s not enough _moments_ in the day for him.” She shook her head. “If you don’t mind, Irvine, I’m a bit busy myself.”

“Oh!” Irvine swept his arm out in a grandiose manner. “Well then, don’t let me keep you.”

Quistis smiled and continuing on her way. Irvine watched her step into the elevator and disappear behind it’s doors, before looking back towards Squall’s office. Taking a deep breath - and he _certainly_ didn’t have any reason to be nervous - he squared his shoulders and stepped inside.

Squall sat behind his massive desk, reading some paperwork while several faculty members surrounded him, nearly dwarfing him. As Irvine got closer, he saw the scowl on Squall’s face, the annoyed set of his jaw.

Maybe he should come back later? Irvine paused before shaking his head. _Every_ time he showed up, Squall was busy. _Every_ time he tried to talk to him, Squall didn’t have time for it. No, it was now or never. Before he could say anything, Zell rushed into the room.

“Hey, uh, sorry for interrupting, guys, but some cadets are brawling in the cafeteria,” he said, panting slightly.

“Fighting is expressly forbidden in all areas of Garden except for the Training Center,” one of the staff members said.

“Yeah, well, they ain’t listening to me,” Zell said, rolling his eyes broadly. “You better go sort it out, man.” When only two of the staffers moved, Zell said, “uh, you all better go. It’s a pretty big group.” He eyed Irvine before leaning towards him. “Selphie told me. Good luck,” he whispered, giving him a thumbs up. “Oh, and uh, if you hurt him, I’ll break your face.”

Irvine raised his eyebrows and watched as Zell lead the way out of the office, before turning back to Squall. He had an almost relieved expression on his face as he stared at the door, before his gaze shifted to Irvine.

“What is it?” he asked, rubbing his forehead.

Irvine shrugged and sat down in the chair set in front of the desk, a grin on his face. “What, can’t I just come visit you?” he asked.

Squall frowned. “No one just ‘comes to see me’,” he said, shuffling the papers and setting them aside, only to pick up another small pile. “What do you want?”

What an interesting question. If Irvine were anyone else, he would have blushed. Hell, he was tempted to and even felt his cheeks heat up. _What the hell is wrong with you? Stop acting like some kind of virginal girl!_ Irvine leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “aren’t you tired of constantly working?” he asked.

Squall shook his head. “Yes. But it doesn’t matter. Even if it’s grating, it has to be done.”

“But surely you can take one night off?” Irvine said, wondering at the wheedling edge to his voice. Irvine Kinneas doesn’t wheedle! Clearing his throat, Irvine said, “Quistis can handle things - Balamb is not at war with anyone and there aren’t any great skirmishes anywhere, as far as I know.”

“As far as you know,” Squall repeated, eyes narrowed. “Irvine, I doubt you really know _anything_ about what’s happening in the world.

Ouch. That was harsh. True, but still. Irvine smiled and stood, bracing himself against the desk so that he leaned over Squall. “C’mon, Squall. One night? You’re sure Garden would fall apart without you?”

Squall leaned back and Irvine was delighted to see a faint reddening of his cheeks. “Why are you pestering me about this?” he asked, glaring now. “What do you want?”

Here we go. Moment of truth. “Well, there’s going to be a History of Weaponry viewing in Balamb this weekend. I thought you might like to go.” It sounded like something Squall would enjoy - he seemed to like his gunblade well enough, anyway.

Squall cocked his head to one side. “With who?”

“With wh- with me!” Irvine said, pushing away from the desk and pointed at himself.

“You?” Squall raised an eyebrow. “Why are you asking me?”

Irvine blinked and rubbed the nape of his neck. “Well, I…” he paused, frustrated. He had always been good with words, why the hell were they failing him now. And why was Squall being so _Squall-like_? “I just thought you’d like to go,” he said, hoping that would satisfy Squall.

It didn’t. Squall’s glare faded and was replaced by suspicious confusion. “I…” he looked away for a moment, staring down at his paperwork. “I really don’t have the time.”

Irvine took a chance and reached down, fingers touching Squall’s chin and tilting his head up. “Make time,” he said, a smile curling on his lips, finally feeling like he had some footing. “I know you can - you’re the commander, you can do whatever you want.”

Squall stared at him for a moment before jerking his head back, a blushing high on his cheeks. “F-fine,” he said, needlessly shuffling his papers again. “When?”

Irvine grinned. “Saturday, 7pm,” he said.

Squall nodded, without looking up. “Fine. Now can I get some work done?” He looked up and Irvine was pleased to see subdued heat in his gray eyes.

Irvine stepped back, hands up in defeat. “Okay,” he said. “I’ve stolen enough of your time, I guess.”

“Apparently not, since we have a-”

“Date,” Irvine finished with a smirk and memorized Squall’s embarrassed glare before leaving the office.


End file.
